The Crow Club was warm tonight, buzzing with laughter and faint holiday cheer. Jesper had insisted on stringing lights across the rafters, their glow casting soft hues of gold and red across the room. Nina and Matthias sat at a nearby table, locked in a predictably heated debate about Fjerdan traditions versus Ravkan indulgences. Wylan lingered by the bar, his hands dusted with powder from whatever treat he’d baked for the crew. And Inej, as usual, was at your side, her quiet presence grounding but sharp-eyed.

Then you stumbled.

“Kaz!” That was Inej—sharp and worried, already kneeling at your side.

“What the—Boss?!” Jesper’s voice cracked as he scrambled over, his usual cocky tone drowned by real fear.

“Move,” Nina ordered, her tone all-business as she shoved Jesper aside and placed two fingers against your throat. You almost smirked as you felt her stiffen. The slowing pulse was convincing, wasn’t it?

“Grisha Saints,” Nina whispered, her voice shaking. “His pulse—it’s barely there.”

“What?” Jesper yelped. “No, no, no. Kaz doesn’t just die.”

“I didn’t say he was dead,” Nina snapped, but her worry was palpable. “But we need to figure out what happened—quickly.”

“Poison?” Matthias asked, his voice grim. “An attack?”

They were a mess. Predictably chaotic, but...effective in their own way.

Happy Christmas, you thought. The best gift they’d get tonight was the lesson you were teaching them—though it would take them hours to realize it.